Remembering the Adventure
by spentlizard
Summary: 1935. After escaping the Temple of Doom, Indiana Jones just wants to go back to his day-job of teaching. A package from his father interrupts these plans, and the intrepid adventurer finds himself on another quest as he remembers the men and women who made him who he is. (Based off the Young Indiana Jones Chronicles TV series. Not sure if this will go anywhere.)


_Marshall College, Connecticut, 1935_

* * *

Indiana Jones sat hunched over his office desk, grading the midterm papers from his students. He exhaled sharply through his mouth, partially because he was tired after several hours of sifting through essays, but mostly because he was frustrated with how poorly his students had done so far. To be fair, he hadn't spent that much time teaching the past few months, but nevertheless he expected more effort from this bunch. If any of them were going to be good archaeologists they had to put forth more effort.

"... no, Moctezuma II was _not_ born in 1520," Indy muttered to himself, "That's the year he _died."_

Flipping the pages over to the first page, Indy took the red pen he was using to grade with and drew a big, fat C-minus next to where the name read "Johnson, Dennis."

Placing the pen down, Indy took off his glasses and leaned back against his chair. He closed his eyes and started to rub his temples, feeling the exhaustion set in. It was already 4:30 in the afternoon and he already felt ready for sleep.

Taking a moment to get lost in his own thoughts, he decided that he hated 1935. First there was that quest for the Idol of Kouru Watu, which seemed to be going well until it somehow escalated into finding Emperor Quin's tomb before the Nazis and the Black Dragon Triad got to it first. And not only had he lost the idol that he set out for in the first place, but the Heart of the Dragon as well. Not to mention the fact that he was nearly killed multiple times by demons that possessed the bodies of dead Chinese warriors.

Then there was that Nurhaci business, where he and Wu Han had worked for so long to track down his ashes. And in the end, Lao Che had Wu Han killed and Indy was unable to recover that precious diamond.

And finally, there was that entire mess with Pankot and the Thuggee. He didn't even want to begin thinking about it.

And at the end of it all? He had nothing to show for it, and here he was stuck behind a desk grading assignments for ungrateful students who didn't care enough to pay attention. Business as usual, he guessed.

 _Well, it's not like 1936 can get any worse._

There was a sharp knocking on the office door, and Indy's eyes snapped open as he answered, "Yes? Come in."

The door opened, and his secretary stepped in holding a small package and a letter.

"Dr. Jones," she began, "this just arrived for you."

She walked over and placed both items on Indy's desk, and he said thank you before she left and shut the door behind her.

Indy first looked at the letter resting atop of the package. Moving the essays to the side for now, Indy put on his glasses and read the cover of the letter to see that it was sent from his father down in Princeton, New Jersey.

"Ah, great," Indy muttered, knowing that if it came from his father it wasn't likely to have been sent with affection in mind. He had left a lot of his old stuff in his father's house back in Princeton, so maybe he was just getting rid of the clutter after all these years.

Opening the letter, a single sheet of paper fell out, and Indy started to read what it said.

 _Junior,_

 _Going through the attic for old stuff. Found this and thought you might want to have it back._

 _All the best,_

 _Your father_

Indy set down the letter, and he started laughing to himself. He was right after all about him clearing out his old stuff from when he was a kid. He figured as much; the man hadn't even bothered to write back asking to meet up one of these days. They still did meet from time to time, but it was very uncommon.

Pushing his thoughts about his father to the side, Indy picked up the small, rectangular package resting on his desk. Tearing at the wrappings, Indy paused when he saw the image on the front cover.

It was an ibis, the symbol of the Egyptian god Thoth. His father had given him this book when he was nine years old.

This was his diary.

Taking the rest of the paper off, Indy saw that this was indeed the same book he had used. Swallowing, he started to flip through the pages, looking at all the entries he had written over the years. It began with when he was given this book while in Egypt, and it ended by around the time he went off to the University of Chicago, at which point the pages had been filled up completely.

He had completely forgotten about this.

Indy perused its contents, eager to see what memories might be stoked from simply viewing. He stopped when he saw a picture between the pages of himself and his old friend Remy Baudouin, the both of them dressed in Belgian military uniforms.

Indy smiled, remembering when they had served alongside each other during both the Mexican Revolution and the Great War. In the latter, he had masqueraded as a soldier named "Henri Defense" and had been through more trouble than he could've possibly imagined. At the same time, he felt that the trenches in Europe were preferable to when he went up against the worshippers of Kali and the spirits of the Netherworld.

Brushing those thoughts out of his mind, he remembered that he hadn't spoken to Remy since the war ended. It had been sixteen years since they parted ways, and Indy had received no word from him. He liked to think that he was okay, that he didn't get himself killed searching for the Peacock's Eye.

Turning the pages back some more, he saw a picture that was extremely faded. It was of himself when he was a boy, standing by his old tutor Ms. Helen Seymour and his good friend T.E. "Ned" Lawrence, who had achieved great fame during the war and had earned the name "Lawrence of Arabia." The last time they spoke it had not been on the best of terms, but he hoped he was doing well. Ms. Seymour however had passed away one week before he had returned from the war. Indy hadn't thought about his stern but caring teacher in forever.

As Indy continued perusing the diary's contents, he started to recall the adventures he had had in his youth, back when he was optimistic and naïve about the world. He figured that if he could go back in time he would probably have slapped himself upside the head for being whiny and immature, especially when it came to the war. God, does he remember how annoying he was, and he didn't even realize it at the time.

There was a knocking at the door, and Indy lifted his head away from the diary and said, "Come in."

The door opened, and Marcus Brody stepped in.

"Indiana," he greeted, "how goes the grading?"

"Boring. Very boring," Indy replied, setting the diary to the side, "The one thing that they didn't teach me about being an archaeologist was that most people don't really care."

"What do you mean?" Marcus asked him.

"Have you seen these papers?" Indy asked him, holding up a stack of the students' submissions, "They're abysmal. Quite frankly, I will be astounded if these students pass the semester."

"Well, it can't be that terrible-" Marcus began, and immediately Indy held one of the papers out to him. Gingerly, Marcus took the sheet, and began to read what was written. Indy saw his relaxed demeanor diminish, replaced with a furrowed brow and his mouth agape.

"Dear God," Marcus uttered, turning towards the professor, "it _is_ that terrible!"

Indy gave him a look that said "I told you so," and Marcus grumbled.

Setting the paper back down on the pile of essays, Marcus said, "Well, I would say it's a good thing that the Easter break is right around the corner. At least you won't have to worry about students in that time."

Marcus turned towards some of the shelves where he observed some old pieces of Iroquois pottery sitting there. After a few moments, Indy spoke up and said, "Do you have any vacation plans, Marcus?"

"Me? Oh, no, no, no. I'm actually content to sit in my home next to the fire, maybe have some sherry and read a good book," Marcus answered with a smile, "And what about you, Indiana?"

Indy chuckled, and he said, "I was thinking about doing some traveling."

Marcus turned his head, and he asked, "Traveling? What priceless relic are you on the trail of this time?"

Indy laughed even more audibly, and he replied, "No, nothing like that. I was thinking of taking a... a pleasure trip of sorts."

"Oh?" Marcus responded, intrigued.

"Dad sent me my old diary from when I was a kid," Indy began, "It's filled with old things I'd forgotten about. I have a lot of old acquaintances I haven't spoken to for over twenty years."

"Well, I do admit that it's a far cry from your usual exploits," Marcus answered, "and far less expensive."

The two friends laughed, and Indy said, "If you're not busy, would you care to tag along? I could use the company."

"If you're offering, then sure," Marcus smiled, "Where's the first destination you had in mind?"

"I was thinking we should start in London," Indy said.

"Ah, London. It's been too long," Marcus said, "I guess I'll pack my bags, then. You should do the same if you're serious."

"Sure thing. Good afternoon, Marcus," Indy said.

"Good afternoon, Indy," Marcus said, and he left the office without another word.

Indy picked up his old diary again, staring at the front cover intently. It would be nice to go down memory lane again, this time unburdened with the threat of Nazis and rival archaeologists breathing down his neck. Even Indiana Jones needed a real vacation every once and a while.

But just in case, he would make sure he packed his whip and revolver.


End file.
